Unsafe Havens
by PinkFreud
Summary: The future is now the past, and all that remains is a myth of a time when there was hope. PostColonization fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: Unsafe Havens**

**Rating: K+**

**Summary:** The future is now the past...all that remains is myth of a time long before, when there was hope. My lame attempt at a Post-Colonization fic.

**Disclaimer: **Nope, nothing.

**Author's Note: **This stupid idea chewed at my brain until I wrote it down. Please forgive me in advance for its bizarreness.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The girl stared out the window, seeing the dark night encroaching. The world was bleak and barren, but it had been for as long as she could remember, and she had nothing at all to compare it to. Her hair was long and ragged, and her clothes were dirty. She had been living in this small community for most of her life; it was an ever-moving group of nomads who spoke very little, and carried many weapons. They were always on alert, for they were being tracked and hunted. They had fought back, they had resisted Colonization, and many had died. The girl did not know why they fought, she did not know much of anything. She had only heard stories of the World Before, before the sky was always whitish-gray, before the ground looked burnt and stripped. When there were cities, not charcoal skeletons of buildings slicing up into the horizon; when there was green grass and blue sky and schools and shopping malls.

The window was dirty; the girl was in the backseat of a car. The car once moved, but now it didn't go anywhere. It just always sat there. When the band of nomads she traveled with had stumbled across this, they decided to make camp there for the night. She got to sleep in the car, while everyone else lay on the ground. People were always being unusually nice to her, and she didn't understand why. They were always going out of there way to make sure she was safe and comfortable.

Perhaps it was because she was the youngest. Or because of her hair. Noone had ever seen hair that colour before, and everywhere she went, people stared and wanted to touch her. It annerved the girl, and she started to feel oddly about her fire-colored hair.

People here were dirty. Covered in dirt all the time, it was nearly impossible to see what they looked like, but the girl's red hair shone like a torch. When they traveled through other nomad communities, people from the nearby camps would come over just to see her, and some would smile, and some would cry, and some would even bow or kneel, and that upset the girl greatly, because she did not understand why anyone would kneel at her dirty feet.

There was an old woman in the camp who everyone called ''Mother''. She was born in the early years after Colonization. There was nobody left who had actually seen the World Before, or lived in it. Those people were all gone. Mother always told the girl to talk to the stars. The stars were barely visible at all anymore, through the haze of smog that always blanketed the sky, but when they were, the girl always talked to them. And she would pray.

Mother taught her about the Star Man and the Star Woman who were always listening, and watching over the people who fought and stood against the Greys. She liked to think of them as being very kind, very strong, beautiful shining people who lived in a safe place way far up in the sky.

The girl leaned against the battered upholstry of the car and gazed out of the dirty window. She wasn't sure if she was seeing stars or just watermarks on the glass. Still, she wrapped her thin arms around herself and hummed a song that she had heard once, but where she heard it, or when, she did not know. It had just always been with her, part of memory long dead and forgotten.

_''Joy to the world, all the boys and girls. Joy to the fishes in the deep blue sea. Joy to you and me''. _The girl hummed herself into sleep, a light wind ruffling her hair through the slightly open window, almost like someone kissing her goodnight.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the morning, there was very little food to eat, as it always was. The girl ate some peaches out of a can, and then stretched out on the sandy dirt to trace pictures with a small stone as she always did. It was the way she occupied herself, because there was nothing else to do. She drew some symbols that she had seen in her dreams, as well as some letters that she didn't know. Soon the letters formed words, and the girl couldn't read them and she didn't know what they meant, she was just writing them in the dirt.

Karl, a tall, thin man who led the group, was walking by with another, Ben, who was very good with weapons, and could fight like a maniac if provoked. Ben spotted the girl and moved over to her. When he saw what she was writing in the dirt, he nearly went mad. His face held something like a blank, naked terror, as he yanked the girl with a forcefullness that seemed oddly reverant to her feet, and tried to kick away what she had written, to stomp it out.

Karl soundlessly shoved him out of the way, and off of the girl. He looked at what she had written. Aside from the ancient symbols, there were words. ''FIGHT THE FUTURE. FIGHT THE FUTURE.''

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Karl never spoke much, but his silence was his greatest ally, and also his greatest weapon, because he could observe more that way. He kept his expression always fairly blank and neutral, and selected words very carefully. People respected Karl because of his lineage. That was also why he was the leader. He was one of the few among his group who had two names, both a first and a last. His last name was Doggett. It was the name of his ancestors. He was descended from two freedom fighters, John and Monica. They were famous, but most of the tales about them had been obscured by myth; they had become a fairy-tale, nobody knew what really happened. He knew that they served alongside the Star Man and the Star Woman. Like all oppressed people, Karl's wandering group of nomads clung to the idea that one day, the Star Man and Woman would return and save them. He didn't know if he believed that.

He was a holy man, or so his people thought. His semi-divine ancestry alone made him appear larger than life, and the fact that he seemed to have certain gifts made him even more valuable. He was a kind of shaman among this group; he was their liason to the Star People. But now...Karl gave a wistful glance at the young girl who was standing beside him, nervously yanking on a strand of her red hair. It appeared that they had another valuable asset.

Karl had suspected it for some time. They found the girl when she was about five years old, crouched behind a magnetite rock, hiding. There was no family in sight. She was dressed in rags, as most everyone was, but she had red hair, a color that none of his people had seen before. It was a color that signified holiness, because the legends all said that the Star Woman had fire-colored hair. As if that were not enough, the girl was also wearing a necklace; a very old piece of gold jewelry bearing a symbol that had not been seen since...since the time of the Star People. That did it. Karl took the girl with them, he held her next to him as the group moved through the dusk across the barren plain, praying to his ancestors that he had done the right thing.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

''Little One'', Karl began, and the girl raised her head and stared at him. He shook his head, and a tiny ghost of a smile curled around his lips. ''Do not be worried, you haven't done anything wrong''. She blinked. ''I haven't?''

''No, child, you haven't. You have been blessed.''

The girl cocked her head and stared at Karl. ''I do not feel blessed. I feel cursed.''

His eyes urged her to continue, and so she did. ''I feel as though people are frightened of me. And I feel frightened of myself at times. I dream strange things; I see faces, I hear voices yelling and speaking and calling. Some times it all blends together and is foggy like the sky, but other times it is so clear. There is emotion; there is pain and loss and sadness, but also laughter and love. I think...at times I have glimpsed the World Before, but I cannot be certain. It is as though I am seeing someone's memory. And I do not understand why people are so kind to me, why they are afraid to upset me; even though it upsets me when I look into their eyes as they look at me with fear. I am nobody, why should they think of me as anything more. I do not have two names, or three, like Mari Alexii. I don't even have one name. I don't know what to call myself.''

The girl stared at the ground and tears fell from her eyes and wetted the dry dirt. Karl put a hand on her thin shoulder, and she raised her head again to look into his eyes. ''My dear, do you trust me?'' He asked, and she nodded.

''Then believe me when I say, do not be frightened. When I was a young man, only a little older than you, I also saw memories, as you did. I saw the World Before, I saw people and felt their emotions. And somehow, I recognized these people, their faces. I felt I was a part of them, even though we had never met in this life. People in the tribe where I lived were afraid of me also. One night, there was an attack where we were sleeping. I heard a voice in my dream telling me to wake up and run. And so I did. The same voice was echoing in my head, telling me not to look back, to just keep running. I felt as though there were arms around me, protecting me. I ran until nearly morning, when I collapsed on the ground. Hours later, I awoke in a caravan of a group of nomads. One of them was Mother.''

''And that's how you came to be here?'' The girl asked. Karl nodded. ''Most of us do not have many memories of our own, at least not ones that we really like, or want to have. We rely on the stories of those who came before us, of the World Before, to give us hope. We pray, because, well, because we want to believe that there is hope; that someone out there is listening. That we have not been forgotten. That the great ones who lived before still live on, whether out there in the distance, or within us. People here look to us, to you and I, and even Mari Alexii, because they see the Old Ones in us. Whether we really are descended from them, or whether they really were who legend says that they were is unimportant. People see what they want to see, they see what will give them hope. And that they have us here, to touch, as a kind of living reminder that there WAS once hope...well, that makes them feel stronger.''

The girl smiled at Karl. He never usually said so much, but when he did speak, he always had great wisdom, and always cheered her a bit. ''Thank you.'' She turned to walk away from him, but then looked over her shoulder and asked, ''Do you believe...that we are, you know...?'' She trailed off. Karl looked at her, thought for a moment, then said, ''Yes, I believe''. And then the girl walked away, her long red hair falling over her shoulders like fire dancing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: Unsafe Havens**

**Rating: K+**

**Summary: **Chapter 2 of my strange Post-Colonization fic.

**Disclaimer:** Same as chapter one, always the same.

**Author's Note:** Here's some background on one of the names I mentioned in the first chapter, Mari Alexii. You can prolly already guess who she's descended from. It's total madness, but my crazy muse Cleo is making me continue this. Blame her. Please review...I love you all bunches.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mari Alexii was tall, with long, graceful legs. She had a pale face with ice blue eyes and long white-blonde hair. Her features were strange and a bit exotic; she carried herself like she was a kind of royalty. She had three names, which was far more than anyone else she had ever met. Some of these people didn't even have one name, she thought smugly to herself. Her last name was only one letter, ''K'', but she felt that was better than nothing. The only other person she had ever met with a last name at all was Karl, the tall, silent leader of the group. Mari Alexii didn't have a problem with Karl. She didn't really have a problem with anybody, but she let on like she did. Being a ''spoiled brat'' was her only defense. She had joined the group when she was fourteen, she was now seventeen.

She had been held in a test facility, somewhere underground. There were people, solider-types, and doctor-types, who would stick her with needles, and play inside her head. There would be a little pinch, and then burning and an aching in her limbs. There was a multitude of scars criss-crossing the pale skin of her torso even now, and she never let anyone see them. There were also scars on her neck and on her scalp, under her hair. She had escaped one night; there was a kind of malfunction with the power generator, and she slipped out of her room in a daze. She was dizzy from the medication they had given her, but she felt she needed to keep moving. She felt an arm grab her, but it was not to harm, it was to help.

The compound had been infiltrated by a group of rebel freedom fighters, and now there was much noise, running and shooting, boots pounding and thudding against the floor like a heartbeat. Mari Alexii relaxed against the arms that were now lifting her, carrying her to safety. All around her, the other test subjects were being freed, some older people, but mostly young ones like herself. She fell asleep then, and remembered no more until days later, when she was dropped off with this camp of nomads, where she was told she would be safe.

Mari Alexii also had dreams; visions of the World Before. She saw memories, but they were rarely pleasant. Her dreams were full of pain and sorrow, of anger and violence and betrayal. There were faces, there were bodies. There was a woman who looked like her embracing a dark man with one arm. There were gunshots, she saw the same man fall dead to the ground, a red dot in the center of his forehead seeping blood. There was the woman again, being experimented on, just as Mari Alexii had been; she felt her pain and sorrow. She saw a man and a woman embracing, she saw a baby boy. And then Mari Alexii would see the Horrible Thing that always scared her most; an old, hideous man with an evil face who breathed fire. Mari hated falling asleep, because she always saw this man.

Now it was day, and though Mari was somewhat tired, she put on a mask full of shrewd alertness. The little girl, maybe one or two years younger than herself, the one with the red hair...she had been drawing ancient symbols in the dirt, words too. There was a wave of whispered chatter washing over the camp, lots of head shaking and shoulder-shrugging, general interested confusion in the strange child with the red hair. Karl seemed to want to put a stop to all the talking, and his strong, dark eyes passed over the groups of people collected together and gossiping as best they knew how. Soon they felt him watching them, and the whispers dulled, then faded, then ceased completely.

The red-haired girl, meanwhile, was sitting by a magnetite rock, looking very lost. She tugged nervously on strands of her scarlet locks, which was an odd kind of habit that soothed her. Mari Alexii sauntered over, her long legs moving like a dancer's. She reeked of forced confidence, but the little girl didn't notice.

''Hey, little girly'', Mari said, weird ice blue eyes leaping. ''I heard'', she said, lowering her voice conspiratorily, ''that you got caught writing things in the sand. Things that are supposed to be forgotten.''

''I'm sorry,'' the child said. Mari Alexii felt pity tugging at the strings of her heart, and her pale hand fluttered up against her will, as if she wanted to touch the girl, to give her some comfort. Tell her, ''I see things too...I'll be your friend. We can keep each other safe.'' But she did not. She could not. Mari Alexii had a kind of curse running through her veins, a resistance to trusting _anyone_ or allowing anyone to see weakness in her ice-blue eyes. She forced a holier-than-thou bitchiness and superiority out of self defense, to keep people who might treat her with kindness at bay. She was as frozen as ice, as unflappable as stone. But it was a sad, little lie.

''Well, just don't do it again, you hear.'' Mari's voice glinted with steel, ''You might get us all into trouble.'' Then she turned and fled, with more urgency and fear in her steps than she would have liked.


End file.
